


Next Winter

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [25]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, F/M, First Meeting, Fluff, Kinda, New York, bughead - Freeform, meet cute, pining Jughead, pining betty, preslash, pseudo-dad jughead, single dad jughead, to jellybean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 01:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15522654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: She can't believe he has the audacity to smoke.The sign says 'no smoking', how much clearer does it get?





	Next Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Dear bughead_trash this was actually inspired by your "bad boy" Jughead prompt, but just really spiralled out of control. So if you would like another fic, that actually has bad boy jughead and betty in high school, you know, classic style, I'm super happy to do that for you! hahahah i don't know where this came from, but it's for you darling, and i hope you like it!
> 
> Enjoy!

Betty rests her hand against the damp bark of a mossy tree to regain her breath. The chilly morning air is cold and nips at her overheated skin and she thinks maybe she should have brought her hoodie with her after all, because despite the sweat trickling down her, she can still feel the icy bite of the wind in just her sports bra and leggings. Her ears are beginning to ache too, and she's only halfway through her run, but winter seems to have- not so much crept- as sprinted in out of nowhere. She's going to need to start wearing a hat or something. 

A cloud of smoke twists and flutters in front of her, and she stares at it in confusion. She pushes off the tree and tugs one side of her wireless heads phones out; the bud bumps against her shoulder and now she can hear beyond the repeated Blue Velvet to the chirping birds. The sun has yet to rise, and the sky is white washed; moisture hangs heavy, stilted and freezing in the air. She turns to follow the source of the smoke, and pauses at the sight of someone. There's a man leaning against a parked motorbike in the carpark a few yards away: at the edge of the park. He's smoking. Betty takes him in and wonders why he's out. It's five am, and most of the houses are still dark, and most of the roads are still empty and quiet. She thinks jealously that he looks rather warm, in his leather jacket and beanie. A  _beanie._ That's a good idea. She should get a beanie for her runs. He's wearing a blue sweater and black jeans, and his face is partially blocked by the puff of smoke he continues to blow out from the damned cigarette between his fingers. 

Betty grits her teeth angrily. Can't he see the sign? It's no smoking. It's one of the reasons she likes to come here, and so as the song starts again, blasting into one ear, she marches over to him. He notices her when she's a few feet away and she can make out dark hair and dark eyebrows and a sharp jaw. It startles her, but doesn't stop her, to see that they're of similar ages. Twenty five is old enough to be able to read or at least respect the environment. She eyes the lush green trees around her, and winces at the devastation that would happen to them if people kept polluting. "Excuse me," she says, voice still a little breathless. He raises his eyebrows at her, looking particularly unconcerned. "It's no smoking." She points to the sign. She can feel the dew that had collected on the bottom of her trainers seeping into the tarmac. 

With purpose, he slowly brings the cigarette to his mouth and takes a long drag. Betty splutters as he then proceeds to blow it right into her face. She's about to get really angry- when the smell of it hits her. It smells of...peppermint. She frowns. He's still looking the complete picture of calmness when he shrugs and says: "It's an e-cigarette. Not a cigarette at all, really. I'm down to no nicotine. I just like to do it. It calms me."

His voice is low and smooth, and with just a hint of wry teasing. Betty can feel humiliation crawling up her cheeks and it keeps the coldness at bay. "Oh." She manages, because now she knows he's not evil, she can appreciate the green of his eyes. It matches the fecundity of the foliage in her favourite park. "Sorry, I just...it's been a rough morning." 

He nods marginally; facial expression remaining the same. "Bit cold for a morning run."

She presses her lips together and nods. "Yeah, I guess. Gotta get it in sometime, though." 

His eyes roam over her then, and she squirms under his piercing gaze. She feels exposed in the little she's wearing. But still, his facial expression doesn't change. She can't tell at all what he's thinking. "Do you?" He asks inquisitively, and she looks away; throat suddenly dry. There's the whirring sound of him taking another puff, and then the smell of peppermint in the air again. The vapour doesn't seem to know quite what to do in the cold air, and so hovers, trying to take shape, before dissipating. 

Maybe she should leave? But she can't think of a way to do it that wouldn't be totally awkward. So instead she says; "what are you doing out here so early?" 

He shrugs, and the slide of the leather draws her attention to his broad shoulders. "Wanted to see the park." He says, and for a moment she thinks that's all he'll say. That maybe he'd rather she just continued with her run. "I just moved here. I wanted to see if this was a decent place to bring a kid."

That startles her, and her eyes scan over him again. He doesn't  _look_ like he should have a child, with the motorbike and the leather, but at the same time, she doesn't know him. She internally scolds the judgemental voice inside that sounds scarily like her mother, and smiles brightly at him. "This is an amazing park," she insists. "It's one of my favourites in the city, hence..." she gestured to herself. "There's a lake with ducks that are always eager to be fed, and people walk their dogs and there's even a little playground if you head up the stone trail."

He smiles then, or at least she thinks it's a smile. It's more of a small twitch in one side of his mouth, curving his lips upwards a little. He powers down his e-cigarette and slides it into his pocket. "You sound like a tourist information board. I take it you've lived here a long time?" 

"My whole life." She informs brightly, and sticks out her hand because it's the right, polite thing to do. He takes it a little warily. He's wearing grey, fingerless gloves and his fingers are just as cold as her hands because when they touch, it's eerily similar. "I'm Betty." She greets, and he nods, a long strand of hair falling into his forehead. He doesn't move to push it away, so she guesses it's a common occurrence. 

"Jughead." He offers, lifting his hand to halt her. "Yes, it is that weird."

She laughs, nodding. "Well, okay, Jughead. Sorry to have bothered you," she takes a step away from him, and he nods. She puts her headphone back in, and continues with her jog. She hears the rev of a motorcycle as she gets further away, but makes sure not to look. It's just another human encounter, come and gone like most things in this city. Her heart still does funny things when she remembers his smile though. 

 

Maybe she likes punishing herself, or maybe the world likes to punish her. After a hectic day of work, and enjoying the bright sunshine that didn't seem to fitting for the Winter season, she'd decided to go for an early evening run. As soon as she gets to the park; clad in just her sports bra and leggings; it starts to rain. A heavy torrent begins to  _pour_ down, and it isn't necessarily cold, it's just wet. She groans, grateful that her headphones are waterproof and nows she'll definitely catch a cold. She risks a look up at the sky, wondering if she should duck into the public toilets and wait it out, or just run home now and accept her fate. 

As she's pondering, her eyes catch on a blurry vision through the rain. It's two figures ducked under an oak tree, where the glass looks significantly less soaked. There are a few other people sheltered there too, so she jogs over; her shoes squelching in the mud. The rain's still coming through, but much lighter now, and she blinks in surprise she sees Jughead. He's dressed just the same way as last time she saw him, and he's currently crouching in front of a young girl, who can't be more than five or six. Betty mutes her headphones and smiles warmly at the sight of them. Definitely related, if not father and daughter, then brother and sister. The little girl is adorable, clad in a summer dress and wooly tights. She's got long, dark hair and wide green eyes. Jughead's currently rifling through his satchel, and Betty watches as he produces a raincoat. 

The little girl shimmies into it, and he puts the hood up for her over her hair, bopping her nose. She giggles.

Jughead looks up then, and their eyes meet. He stands slowly, and the little girl spins round to look at Betty too. She has to lift the top of her hood back to see, and Betty waves a little, stepping forward. "Hey, Jughead," she manages, and he nods at her. 

"Betty." He recalls slowly, and she nods. He frowns. "Why don't you have a coat?" 

She laughs, wiping her sodden palms against her leggings. "Just my luck, I guess."

He sighs, and starts peeling off his jacket. Before Betty can even protest, he's thrusting it towards her. "No objections," he insists, "besides, JB wouldn't hear of it, would you?" 

The little girl shakes her head soberly, beaming up at Betty but evidently too shy to talk. Betty takes the jacket; it's heavy in her hands, and she pulls it on. It's warm and smells of peppermint and paint. She feels better already. "Thank you," she says earnestly, "how will I get it back to you?" 

"It's a small city," Jughead teases, "and I'll come to the park a lot." Betty laughs at that, and then watches as he turns back to the girl. His sister? His daughter? His cousin? She still doesn't know. "Okay," he murmurs, crouching down again. "Are you ready?" 

"I was born ready!" The girl insists, and Betty laughs, as Jughead turns around, the girl; Jellybean, Betty remembers, what odd names they have, leaps onto his back. And then she watches Jughead sprint out of the cover and into the raining green towards the car park. He's half ducked over, and the rain rolls off Jellybean's coat, but he's getting drenched. When they get to the motorbike, Betty watches in confusion before realising there's a side car. It has to be the cutest thing she's ever seen, and through she feels bad about the fact that his previously dry jumper is now clinging to his body, she can't help but think it's the sweetest sight ever. Both of them in black helmets, with crowns scratched into the side, and revving off into the distance. She's not sure she thinks it's the safest thing she's ever seen, but then again, she can feel her nasal cavities filling with mucus and knows that she's going to have one bitch of a cold. 

 

She doesn't go out to the park much for the rest of Winter. The cold had scarred her, and she was content to stay inside and use her apartment's gym. She likes to chomp on carrot sticks and watch old Tom Cruise movies, whilst nestled into Jughead's jacket. It's a bit weird, she's being weird, she knows that. But the city, despite what Jughead had said, wasn't small. It was huge, and in all its immensity, it's easy to become a mere speck in it. Betty feels lonely sometimes, between work and coming home, and Jughead had broken that routine. She likes it. She tries to look him up on facebook one night, thinking that there can't be many Jughead's, but if he's got it, she can't find him. 

She looks out of the window a few times, and sees the park in the drizzly distance, but can't bring herself to go there. Her muscles say she deserves a long break, and for once, her brain agrees. 

Unlike Winter, Spring does roll around in a lazy way. Little by little, the temperature grows. Petals reappear and small, ripening leaves sprout on branches. It's on her lunch break one day that she wanders into the park, nuzzling into the sunshine and finding a bench, that small voice jolts her out of her contentment. She looks over her sandwich to see Jellybean staring up at her. The girl is wearing a yellow dress and a plaid shirt. The shirt clearly isn't hers and must be Jughead's. It hangs just longer than the dress and the sleeves have been rolled up so that they look almost like armbands. The long black hair is a little tangled from playing, and she's smiling widely. "You're the pretty girl that Jug talks about." Jellybean informs, and Betty scans around quickly for Jughead.

She can't see him, and that's when the words sink in. Jughead talks about? Thinks she's pretty? They've barely had one conversation. And also 'Jug', not dad? What does that mean? "I'm Betty," she says in a kind voice, and Jellybean nods. She's got a large, floppy stick in her hands and is fiddling with it idly. 

"I'm JB, and I really like lady bugs." 

Betty chuckles. "Lady bugs are very, very cool. Do you like the black ones with red dots, or the red ones with black dots?" 

Jellybean gasps; eyes wide. "There are black ones with red dots?" She asks, looking up at Betty adoringly. So that's how Betty ends up sprawled on the grass on her stomach with Jellybean, as they scan through photos on her phone of lady bugs, and then rifle through the grass blades looking for them. Betty's glad to find that Jellybean is as sweet as her name suggests. She's not amazing with children, if she's honest. Polly's kids don't respond to her sweetness particularly now that they're in the weird, 8 year old faze, but Jellybean seems to find her interesting and talks easily. When a tall shadow falls over them, Betty's surprised by the sight of Jughead. She'd forgotten he was probably in the park, and he falls to his knees; panting. 

"JB," he gasps, shaking his head. "I thought I'd lost you!" He reached over, and plucks her easily into his lap. She laughs, kicking a little and examining the grass from her new vantage point. "I've told you, you can't wander off. I thought something had happened." He's holding her tightly, and Betty smiles softly as she sits up, crossing her legs beneath her. 

"But I found Betty!" Jellybean insists, and Jughead's eyes finally settle on her. 

He smiles, an honest to god actual smile, not just an uptick, and he sighs at her. "Thank you, Betty," he insists, even though Betty isn't sure she's done anything. She ducks her head shyly. "I've never seen you outside running gear." He notes, looking pointedly at her shirt and black skirt. "It's a good look for you."

Betty blushes and reaches for her bag. She's been carrying around his jacket on the off chance she ran into him, and hands it over a little remorsefully. He laughs when he sees it. "I know it's about six weeks over due, but....ta da..." she laughs, and he cards his fingers through Jellybean's hair and uses his free hand to reach for it. She's a second too late letting go, and he seems to sense it, because he drops it back into her grip. "No, Jug-"

"Keep it." he insists, eyes all warm and glittery and green. He looks so soft she wants to cuddle into him just like Jellybean. She wants to know all about him. "Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime," he tickles Jellybean so she squawks. "Or hot chocolate." 

Betty nods, clumsy in her eagerness to grab hold of her phone and minimise the insect tab. "That sounds- that would be great." She insists, nodding enthusiastically. She should feel embarrassed about it, but he looks completely enamoured by her. "I live quite close, but I-I know all the buses, so wherever you'd like-"

"He'll pick you up!" Jellybean insists, and Betty looks at her bemusedly. "Star magazine says that's how you wow a woman."

Jughead rolls his eyes as he types in his number. "I need to get you more children's books." He hands the phone back to Betty with a grin. "I'll give you a ring later, and you can tell me your address? I'm happy to pick you up."

Betty swallows. "In your motorbike?" 

He nods easily. "Yeah."

She wonders how that will work. Jellybean in the side car, and Betty just behind Jughead, her arms wrapped tight around his waist. She fights her blush again. "Okay, that sounds great." She laughs a little at her own awkwardness, but Jellybean saves her by screaming victoriously as she opens her palm to reveal a red ladybird. 

 

When Jughead and Jellybean come to pick her up, Betty's wearing his jacket, and has a bag full of children's books. 

She wonders if she's trying too hard, but then he slides a black helmet onto her head; a third one, a new one, with a crown already scratched into the side, and she thinks that if she is; he is too. 

By the time the next winter rolls around, Betty doesn't find it nearly as exhausting or nearly as cold. 

In fact, it's kind of warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading: comment/prompt
> 
> tumble with me at : typing123 
> 
> Side Note:
> 
> This was tough for me to write, especially considering some of the feedback I got on the story "Are you Somebody Else" in this series. A few people took to telling me anonymously what they really thought, and I'm afraid it wasn't as PG as I might have appreciated. I'd never seen this side of the fandom before, in fact, I've been lucky enough to never see that side of a fandom before, and I've written for a lot of them.  
> In light of this, I really didn't want to do another fic today, but I thought I had to, or I wouldn't again. I love feedback, be it positive or negative, something like: "This wasn't my thing but can't wait to see what you have next" that's my jam. Telling me there's a spelling error or that a character is being a little completely insane, I like that. Because I can fix that. Abuse, plain and simple, I'm afraid I don't like that.  
> So this was for the people who have always made me feel good, the people who tell me what they like and don't like, the people who always comment or always kudos or always just click on it my work. You guys are what I want the bughead fandom to be. You're the best commenters I've ever had and I appreciate you so much. I'd never felt so accepted by a fandom (not including yesterday's remarks). I've never been surrounded by such a talented bunch, be it writing, art, photo and gif sets, or just the eloquence of your reviews and the stamina you have in getting through 50k fics and commenting on an unfinished multichap that updates sporadically. I'm consistently amazed by all of you. I stand by my previous story, and I won't take it down like I nearly did. I stand by it because there were a few people out there, wonderful people, who stood by me. Who thought the story was good, if not a little different. Thank you those people, I appreciate you more than you can know. 
> 
> I love you guys.
> 
> mwah mwah x


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